One Year

One year.

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?"
                                          -Rent Soundtrack

A year Sara has been in heaven and we've continued here on earth without her. Some days measured in moments, others in miles travelled without her. Not one of those without noticing the lack of her here.

Gratitude pours out for the way she lived...for the way she died. For the story she shared along the way. 

Like most who loved Sara, we've spent the better part of the last twelve months learning to live without the fullness of her in our days. Her laughter, rich and warm, that resonated from deep within her. That smile...even through her pain it took your breath away. The gift of her in our days...a gift that not a one of us would trade for all the riches in the world. 

It's been five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes that I've worked on seeing the world through her eyes even though she's no longer in it. It's a whole lot harder than you'd think. Far easier is it to view it once again through my own. But, in not eyeing it as she would, this place isn't as beautiful. As rich and full and loud.  Sara? She saw our world as a lovely place.

It's been a year of the chicks growing and learning and changing without her beside me through it....I think that is what I've missed most. Her watching along with me. I think, as a mother, you grieve differently when you have children still at home. I don't cry unless I'm alone and when does that ever happen or I cannot be seen. You put their pain before your own. For the last month, I've quietly been measuring the year without her in it. The last this and the last that...breathing and continuing and giving thanks for all that we've had and all we've been given. Days measured in moments...in life...in love. 

Loving you from here, sweet girl. 

Always...


Comments

  1. My arms are too short to reach you with a hug, but I pray you would be especially aware of our Father's arms around you in your grief. Your name and need have been before him all morning. I love you.

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